The Past Catches Up With Us All
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Sherlock gets a visit from somebody who he used to know. How will he take it? Please leave reviews :D I love them
1. Chapter 1

John wandered slowly up the stairs with four heavy shopping bags, two in each hand. He slowly took a step at a time, taking deep breaths because of the weight. "I'm fine, don't worry." He shouted as he was near to the top of what felt like a mountain he had climbed. As soon as she reached the door he struggled to open it with the bags in his hands, so he set them down and slowly opened it. What he saw when he opened it was a complete shock. Sherlock was lying at the side of his desk, bruises and blood on his face. Only a little blood, but it was clear he was hurt and something had obviously happened while he'd been to the shops. He ignored the shopping bags on the floor and went quickly over and knelt down beside Sherlock who seemed more or less unconscious. John placed his hand gently on Sherlock's left shoulder and shook him carefully. "Sherlock, are you alright?" he seemed quite calm, but he was actually quite shocked and worried as to what had happened. He knew Sherlock was in danger sometimes, but he thought that Sherlock was quite strong when he needed to be. However, this time he clearly wasn't and as a result he was badly hurt. Fortunately, the second time John shook him, Sherlock opened his eyes gradually. He blinked several times and didn't open his eyes fully as he felt dizzy and nauseous. "Thank God, what happened?" Sherlock just shook his head slowly and mumbled. He clearly still wasn't quite with it and didn't really want to answer any questions. "How many fingers am I holding up?" John said, trying not to pressure Sherlock into answering every single question he had at that precise moment. He held up three fingers in front of Sherlock. However, Sherlock wasn't in the mood and smacked John's hand out of the way. It wasn't a hard smack; Sherlock was clearly quite weak as John could see that it had taken Sherlock some effort just to lift his hand up. "Alright, I'm going to help you to bed. Can you stand up?" Sherlock made a slight nod of the head, so John lifted him up slowly and carefully, and then gradually took him to his bedroom. He laid him on the bed gently and made sure he was alright before leaving him.

John was still bewildered as to what had happened, and he knew he may not even get straight answers when Sherlock woke as he seemed to have quite bad concussion. So, he packed the shopping away and went down to speak to Mrs Hudson about the goings on.

"You say he's got concussion? How?"

"I am not really sure to say, but he's quite ill. He's asleep at the moment."

"Oh dear." Mrs Hudson sighed.

"You were here when I left, how did you not hear anything? Did you not see anybody come in?"

"Oh, I went out. Before I left, however, I did go and see if Sherlock was alright. He's been acting odd recently, don't you think?"

"I thought I was the only one who believed it. Obviously there is something if you suspect it too."

"Yes, anyway, I went up and he seemed to be in a foul mood. I asked him if he was already, but he shooed me away like I was a dog obeying his master. I would have stayed, but he was pacing up and down the living room over and over frantically muttering to himself about something, probably a case. So, I decided it would be best just to leave him, I had no idea this would happen."

"Ah. Well, when you came back, did you not see anybody walking away from here? Didn't you go upstairs to see if Sherlock was still going on?"

"No, I didn't notice anybody walking away; I wasn't really paying much attention to be quite honest. However, when I did come in I noticed that Sherlock had quietened down, but I thought that he maybe trying to think or something and I didn't want to get the same, or even worse, reaction if I went back in. So I just left it and came in. It's dreadful what's happened. I'll make sure to make him something, a nice meal or something for when he's alright."

"That'll be nice, but maybe he won't see it that way. He'll probably just leave it."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Well, I'll think of something." Mrs Hudson smiled as she wandered around her kitchen and began to wash up. John smiled and then left to go and check on Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock said wearily. His voice was like a whisper and it faded as he got to the end of his word. He didn't bother to try and sit up; he just slowly turned to face the door. His head was banging and his mouth was hurting a little because of a cut at the side of it. He flinched in pain when he spoke as he had forgotten about it. "John?" Sherlock said once more, this time only a little louder, but John had heard him and wandered in slowly and quietly, trying not to alarm him.

"Are you alright?" he said, caringly.

"I... uh... how did I get here?"

"You were lying beside your desk unconscious, I woke you up for about 2 minutes, don't suppose you remember, and then I brought you in here. You fell asleep almost straight away." Sherlock just blinked and then looked at John for a moment. It was clear to him that John had a lot of questions, ones he was not willing to answer just then or maybe not even ever. "I think you have concussion," John said, trying to resist the urge to ask him so many questions until he was better.

"What?"

"You have concussion. Something, or someone, hit you across the head badly. I'm going to have to take a look at it when you're better; there was a slight cut I think. Doesn't look too serious, but you were hit with quite a force, clearly, and you have concussion." John didn't know whether Sherlock was taking this in or not, he seemed completely clueless, but he explained it none the less. "You'll need quite a bit of rest. I'll tell Lestrade you cannot complete the case."

"No, you shan't."

"What? Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Yes, I did. However," Sherlock hesitated for a moment because of the pain and dizziness, but tried to get himself back on track so he didn't seem too ill. "I am sure I will recover soon. I shall continue the case when I am better."

"Well, that's what I was suggesting,"

"No, you suggested that you will tell Lestrade I shan't complete the case. Which I shall, when I chose. I'm sure I'll be fine by the evening and then I shall try and complete a days work in the space of the time I have tonight as I've missed it today."

"What are you talking about? I seriously doubt you will have fully recovered by this evening!" John shouted a little which hurt Sherlock's head, but he didn't let on. "You should continue the case when you are fully better, not just able to walk a bit. Plus, maybe you should pack this case in." Sherlock looked to John as if he was an idiot.

"What on earth do you mean? Pack this case in? This is a good case, I am sure to have an answer by tomorrow if you let me go out this evening. Even if you don't want me to I will. I do not take my orders from you."

"Sherlock, I'm a doctor, I know that you won't have recovered! You need rest!"

"I need to solve the case!"

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you need to solve this case so badly? Why can you not just leave it to somebody else? Yes, it is quite mysterious, but you need a break. Why is this case so important?!" Sherlock shut up for a moment. John seemed astonished that Sherlock hadn't answered back straight away and found that there was more to this case and Sherlock then met the eye. "What is it then? Go on? Why _have _you been acting so strange these past couple of days – I'm now presuming that it is to do with the case because of your silence. Why have you got concussion? I know these are many questions and you are ill, but if you seem to think that you will be able to continue this case in the evening, then this shall be no trouble to you." Sherlock was surprised at John's quick statement. It was clever and thought through, there was no way out. Nothing else to say that would get him out of this unless he gave up the case, which he just couldn't do. "Go on." John said, folding his arms as he waited patiently for an answer.

"I... I know the suspect..."


	2. Chapter 2

John was still puzzled by what Sherlock had said in answer to his question. He knows the suspect. What's that supposed to mean? How does he know him? Why? What on earth was John meant to get from that one sentence? He had tried to get more out of Sherlock, but Sherlock refused and said that he wanted to rest before having to go out that evening. John had tried to argue and reason with him to just tell him a little more, but he could see Sherlock was quite uncomfortable about the matter and so he let him rest. After about half an hour though, Sherlock came stumbling out of his bedroom.

He staggered slowly into the living room where John was sat reading a newspaper in his armchair. Sherlock scowled at the light that headed his way as he walked into the room. He covered his eyes with his hands and looked away. John turned to see what was wrong. "I told you that you'd still be ill. Plus, it's only been half an hour. What are you doing out of bed?"

"I didn't... want to stay in bed and rest." Sherlock said slowly as he walked over to the sofa. He threw himself down and made himself comfortable on it. He felt quite nauseous and ill at that point and feared that John was right about him not being fit to go out that night.

"So... What happened?" John said. He felt quite awkward asking him as he knew he would just shut him out, but he wanted to know.

"I, uh, I don't really remember a lot..." Sherlock sighed. Half of that was true; he remembered the incident vaguely, but not as well as he normally would have. John nodded, knowing that it was a symptom of concussion, so he didn't know whether Sherlock was lying or not. There was no way to be sure just yet. He knew that tomorrow Sherlock would be fine and would probably remember the goings on of earlier that day, so he left it.

A few hours went by, and neither of them said a word to each other. John had been aching to ask Sherlock what he meant when he said that he 'knew the suspect'. However, he knew he wouldn't get a straight answer and Sherlock would just use the fact that he's concussed to overpower him. Sherlock had been once to throw up; John helped him as much as he could and as much as Sherlock would let him. He insisted he was alright, it was nothing. He just lay back onto the sofa after that. "Aren't you going to continue with the case?" John said, trying to break the ice as he brought in a drink for both himself and Sherlock. Sherlock glanced at the cup for a moment, wondering whether he should drink it. He decided against it and just sighed. "I guess that's good," Sherlock quickly turned to John. "I just mean so that you can get some more rest; you need it. You look dreadful. No offence." Sherlock just sighed and rolled his head back to the side to lie on the right side of his chest softly. "Maybe you'll let me take a look at your head soon?" John was still trying to be as comforting as possible. Maybe he'd get Sherlock to tell him everything that way and not if he just interrogated him because clearly that approach was getting him nowhere. Sherlock nodded slightly and then closed his eyes, gradually falling asleep.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, are you alright?" Sherlock felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and then a shaking of his arm. He opened his eyes slowly to see John sat above him staring down at him with a concerned face. Sherlock blinked and looked around him, wondering what was going on.

"What?" he said, slowly as John sighed with relief.

"It's twelve o'clock in the afternoon. I've never known you to sleep all through the day and 'till late the next day." Sherlock's eyes opened wider. He couldn't believe he'd been asleep for so long. Why had he done that? He'd made a mistake. Yes, he did feel quite better, but what about the case? He needed it to be solved as soon as possible. "How are you feeling?" Sherlock looked back to John as he realised he was off in his own thoughts. He seemed blank at first, but then he nodded.

"Uh, fine. Good." He said as he tried to sit up.

"That's good." John smiled. Sherlock then noticed John looking towards the doorway consciously. He wondered why, so he sat himself up and then turned to see Lestrade standing by the door waiting. Sherlock seemed puzzled and slightly annoyed that Lestrade was there while Sherlock had been resting, so he quickly turned to John. "I'm sorry; he more or less just arrived." Sherlock scowled at him and then turned back to Lestrade.

"Sherlock, how are you?" Lestrade said as he entered the room. Sherlock didn't bother to answer him; he just sat and stared angrily to him. John, by this time, had decided to sit down in the armchair while Lestrade explained why he was there. "Well, anyway, I think we have some news on James Sanderson."

"Go on." Sherlock had now woken as fully as he was going to right then, so he listened to what the inspector had to say.

"We think he's gone."

"What?" Sherlock seemed puzzled.

"Somebody saw him leaving on a train yesterday to Liverpool. Obviously we're going to get him, if we find him, that is." Sherlock stopped Lestrade for a moment and thought to himself. He began to remember everything that had happened the day before, before he'd fallen asleep. He knew that James hadn't have gotten away, because he wouldn't have without what he came back for.

"He hasn't left. What are you talking about?"

"We have eyewitnesses, Sherlock."

"They're all liars; I'm telling you now, Lestrade, he's still here."

"Sherlock, I know that you like to make things more mysterious and stuff and sometimes they are that way, and you are very good at those moments. However, I have proof that he got on the train and left to Liverpool. We have witnesses. Why would they be lying? What proof do you have?" Sherlock paused. He wouldn't be able to get Lestrade to believe him without telling him everything. What was he to do?

"I'm telling you, inspector, it wasn't him." Lestrade knew, he could see, that Sherlock knew more than he was sharing.

"Tell me, Sherlock, how did you end up with that on your head?" Lestrade said as he noticed the cut on Sherlock's forehead by the side. Sherlock sighed and bowed his head quickly. "Is that why you didn't meet me yesterday?" Sherlock's head shot up once more.

"You never asked me to meet you."

"Yes, I did." John turned to them after listening to the ongoing conversation and began to intervene.

"He did Sherlock, he called you. You told him you couldn't meet him." Sherlock looked to John quickly, still confused. "However, Lestrade, he was concussed at that point and hardly properly awake, that's why he didn't meet you and that's probably why he doesn't remember." Lestrade looked at Sherlock.

"Concussed, you say?" Sherlock turned back to Lestrade as he spoke. "How on earth did that happen? Obviously it was the blow to the head, but what caused that?" Sherlock didn't reply. "Do feel free to share with us what happened."

"I just hit my head." Sherlock said quietly. Both John and Lestrade knew he was lying.

"Surely, the great consulting detective didn't just bang his head carelessly?" Lestrade was being harsh, he knew, but he also knew that Sherlock was hiding something relevant from the case from him and he wanted to know what it was. "What happened really, Sherlock? And what does it have to do with the case?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I know nothing. I simply hit my head." Sherlock painfully got out of him. He didn't like to say things that made him sound stupid, but he was willing to so he wouldn't have to explain to Lestrade what had happened before the accident.

"Alright then." Lestrade stared at him with suspicious eyes for a moment. Sherlock stared straight back, trying not to look guilty. "You say he's not gone to Liverpool? Then why is it that I have witnesses and all you have is your word?"

"I will admit that is all I have, however, inspector, when has that ever let you down?" Lestrade sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, but you have no proof this time. I need a little bit of proof."

"I promise you, you will soon get your proof. However, right now you must just trust me." Lestrade didn't know what to do. He knew that this man had an incredibly talent and was always right. Should he trust him? He sighed and stared at the floor for a moment, considering his options which were few.

"Fine, I shall listen to you. But, if you don't give me proof soon I'm going to have to follow my own lead."

"I shall agree to that." Sherlock smiled. He then flinched because of his lip, and John and Lestrade watched closely as Sherlock placed his hand on it gently.

"Are you sure you just fell, Sherlock?" Lestrade seemed concerned at this moment for he saw some bruises on Sherlock's face. Sherlock nodded slowly, but it was clear this time that he was lying. Nonetheless, he didn't bother to say anything this time; he knew he wasn't going to get anything else from Sherlock at this point.

"What is it that we should do, then?" Lestrade said as he was about to leave the detective and the doctor.

"You should go to this address," Sherlock quickly got up and scribbled something on a scrap sheet of paper with a pen he'd found lying on his desk. "The woman living there is in danger, I believe. You need to get her out and bring her here."

"Why is she in danger? And why is it I should bring her here?"

"She is in danger of James Sanderson."

"What? Why, who is she?"

"I will explain everything when you bring her here?"

"Why don't you just come down?"

"Well, we need to get her out of the house and I must speak with her."

"Why?"

"All will be explained when she arrives. Now you best hurry, she needs help. I shall wait here, tend to the small wound I have and by that time she should be here. Alright?" Lestrade sighed once more by the fact that he was being ordered around by this man, but he was the best. So, he nodded slowly and went on his way.

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**Thanks for reading :) next chapter will be up soon. Please, please, please leave reviews! Say that you like, dislike, love or hate, I don't mind!**


	4. Chapter 4

"So, who is she?" John said as he tended to Sherlock's small wound. It wasn't as bad as he'd suspected, but he still had to stitch it a little.

"What?"

"You know exactly who I'm talking about." John said as he put the stitches away and nodded to show he'd finished. Then both he and Sherlock sat back down in opposite armchairs. John sat staring at Sherlock, waiting for an answer. "The woman. The woman you sent Lestrade to collect. Who is she? What has she got to do with anything?"

"I told Lestrade that I shall explain when she arrives."

"Why can't you explain it to me now?"

"Because there's no point in explaining it twice now, is there?" Sherlock responded quickly. John could tell Sherlock knew more than he would say, and he knew it wouldn't all be explained when the woman arrived. However, he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with it, it was impossible to get any straight answers from Sherlock if he didn't want to give them.

"What's her name?"

"Jennifer Richardson. 36."

"Do you know her?"

"What?"

"Well, you did say that you knew the suspect. Do you know this woman?"

"Vaguely, yes." Normally it was impossible to tell whether Sherlock was lying, but this time it was painfully obvious. John knew if he continued to question him then Sherlock would refuse to tell him anything whatsoever, so what else was he to do? Would he just have to wait until Sherlock decided it was time to spill it all out? Would that even happen? He decided he would wait until Lestrade arrived and then he would see what he could get out of him.

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"I've brought her." Lestrade said as he entered the room with a shaking woman behind him.

"Ah, Lestrade. That was fast, well done." Sherlock smiled almost sarcastically. Lestrade didn't bother to acknowledge it and then he entered. The woman behind hesitated as she entered the room. They could all see she was frightened and weary of her surroundings. That was all until she saw his face.

"Sherlock?" she said, looking to him. He looked at her and froze for a moment. He began to feel his heart pounding against his chest, like it had when they had first met. He hadn't seen her for six years. "You've changed a bit." She smiled softly.

"I could say the same to you." He quickly replied.

"You both know each other?" Lestrade intervened.

"Oh yes, only a bit. We knew each other in uni." Jennifer replied. Sherlock smiled to her, silently thanking her for not revealing their secret. She smiled and nodded back, but they both didn't want to admit that it still hurt to lie about this. It hurt just to see each other again after what had happened.

"Ah, anyway, shall we start?" Lestrade smiled to Sherlock. Sherlock didn't reply straight away. He got lost in Jennifer's soft smile and her dark brown eyes. Her long hair drooping down her shoulders, some of it pinned back a little at the top. "Sherlock?" Sherlock heard him the second time and quickly pulled himself together.

"Yes, yes of course."

"Right, well, you said you'd explain?"

"All in due time, Lestrade." Sherlock nodded and then turned back to the radiant young woman who was now sat on the sofa. She'd stopped shaking now, and she didn't seem as frightened. However, she did seem to be quite terrified, although she didn't show it, they could all see that she clearly wasn't happy. Sherlock knew that she understood why she was there; she had as soon as she'd seen his face when she entered.

"What are you going to do? Interview me?" she looked up at the three men. "Well, if so, I want Sherlock to do it. I don't want anyone else to be here."

"What? But I need to be here." Lestrade interrupted.

"Well then you shall get no answers from me." Sherlock seemed to be surprised, but this is what they both wanted.

"But we all need to know what is said, we're all investigating this case." John stood with Lestrade because he knew Sherlock was hiding something, maybe Jennifer was also.

"I shall report it all back to you when you return." Sherlock smiled.

"I cannot let you interview her alone." Lestrade stopped them.

"Fine, then none of you will know what has happened. I only know Sherlock, and I trust him completely. However, you two, a police officer and a man I still do not know the name of,"

"John Watson." He said quickly.

"Well, John Watson, I am sure you can understand that I would prefer to speak only to Sherlock as I know him and trust him with my life. He can then tell you both all the relevant information." John sighed. Sherlock turned to him and stared with pleading eyes.

"We could just let them do the interview." John said, giving in to it all. He thought that maybe if he seemed to understand then Sherlock would tell him something, at least.

"What? John, you know why I can't!"

"But he will give us all the relevant information. We are all on this case." Lestrade sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere if he wouldn't let them, but he knew how stupid it was to give in.

"You have to swear to me you will give me all the information. Everything that is relevant." Lestrade stared sternly into Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock smiled politely and nodded. "Well then I guess I have no other choice." Lestrade sighed with annoyance. "John and I shall wait outside the building. You shall come and get us when you are ready. Is that clear?" Sherlock nodded, and then Jennifer too. John and Lestrade sighed as they descended the stairs to leave. They regretted their decision already, but they knew they couldn't go back now.

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**Thanks to everyone who is reading and has reviewed so far! Please continue to leave reviews. Tell me what you like, what you dislike, whatever :D**


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you." Sherlock smiled as he pulled his chair from behind the desk and placed it in front of where Jennifer sat.

"Yes, well we will have to let them know we're brother and sister soon, and that James is our father."

"I know." Sherlock sighed.

"I have missed you, you know." Jennifer smiled at her brother, trying to change the subject a little. "If it wasn't for him, I would have contacted you more."

"Yes, I know."

"Does Mycroft know anything yet?"

"Of course not! He doesn't know anything, apart from the fact that our father has been released from prison. He hasn't really paid that much attention into the case as far as I know; he never really knew him, so he didn't pay that much attention."

"What? You never told him?"

"You asked me to keep your secret, I did." Sherlock smiled gently and held her hand. "Now, have you heard from James?"

"Not really. But I doubt he would contact before somebody before he went to murder them, so that's probably the reason." Sherlock sighed.

"Right. Well, you shall stay here until we know something."

"What? But then he'll come after you?" she then noticed the bruising and cuts on his face and sighed with sorrow. "He did that to you, didn't he?" Sherlock didn't answer and looked away slowly. Jennifer sighed once more. "I knew it! I should never have gotten you into this problem! If we had never met you wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Jen, stop. I'm perfectly fine. I'm glad we found each other, you could have died if we didn't."

"Yes, but now we _both_ could die!"

"I'm sure we'll find a way out. Anyway, he won't get in here with all the police outside."

"Yes, but they won't be here for long, will they?"

"I'm sure we'll all think of something." Sherlock smiled and tried to comfort her. "Don't worry, Jen, we'll catch him."

"With you working on this case, I have no doubt. Well, I don't doubt that we'll find him, however, I doubt whether we'll be safe."

"Don't worry." Sherlock placed his hands on her shoulder's and smiled to her. She looked at him, and tried to force a brave smile so he knew she was alright.

"Alright, alright. Anyway, how are we going to tell that lot about... you know?"

"Right, what is it that you have been talking about that's so secret?" Lestrade said as Sherlock opened the door for him and John to enter.

"Well, Jennifer hasn't seen anything or heard from anyone."

"If that's all that was said then why did you have to talk privately? Why did you take so long?"

"Because we were talking about something else." Jennifer sighed as she stood up.

"And what was that?" Lestrade kept his stern look at the pair and listened carefully.

"Sherlock... Sherlock and I are related."

"What? How?"

"We're brother and sister." Lestrade and John seemed shocked and stood looking at the pair gormlessly for a moment.

"I, uh, well... What has that to do with the case?" Lestrade tried to pull himself together.

"James Sanderson is our father."

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**Thanks for reading :) not a great chapter today, but it will get better, sorry :/ please leave reviews**


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